Resurgence of Evil

CHAPTER 19:

Ginny unwound her scarf from her neck, grateful for the warmth of the house. Focused suddenly on her hunger, and the baby's vigorous kicking, she stood and started to search for something to eat, the others' conversation a backdrop to her foraging in the cupboards.

"He's late." Draco's voice was low and tired. He looked exhausted, and he'd lost weight. Even so, she'd seen his dry humor shine through daily. Not now - now he was worried. And since she considered him a friend - sort of - Ginny was worried too.

"That's odd." Ginny didn't turn around, but she could hear the frown in Harry's voice, and smiled a little. She wanted, irrationally, to smooth the little worry lines from his brow, and felt love for him well up.

"It's a little worrying, and I'm not sure what to make of it." Draco admitting that he was worried. That in itself was a sign of how run-down he was.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," she said with satisfaction. She didn't relish knowing that someone in close proximity to her was in contact - however unwilling - with the man who wanted her baby.

Finding what she was looking for, Ginny started slicing thick slabs of bread to make a sandwich, or two. Or three. In case someone else was hungry, of course.

She moved to the fridge, trying to ignore the serious talk of death that was filling the kitchen, muted as it was. Pulling several jars and a bag from the deli out, she commenced making a sandwich, and was only on her second bite when Draco's incredulous voice broke through - she ate with the air of someone concentrated on one of the important things in life.

"What are you eating?"

Ginny noted that Draco looked a little ill. "Pickle and liverwurst sandwich," she said, and glanced at the pickle jar. She'd left it open, and Draco's sensitive nose had detected the contents, his even more sensitive stomach rebelling. She looked at him again, and saw that Draco was both pale and a little green.

"Urg." He mumbled something under his breath, presumably excusing himself, and quickly disappeared into the other room.

Ginny smiled a little, and Harry grinned, but both smiled faded away when Ginny glanced toward the door Malfoy'd left by. "Do you think he's okay," she asked.

Harry shook his head. "The longer this goes on, the less 'okay' he gets."

"I hate this," Ginny burst out angrily. "I hate knowing that the one great evil of our time was after you, and now his successor wants my baby." She pushed her flaming hair out of her face with a hand that shook with fury.

Harry was on his feet immediately, his arms curling round her comfortingly as he crouched by her chair. "Shh," he said softly. "We'll manage. We did before."

"Before, Draco solved the problem. Now, he is the problem." Ginny knew she was being unfair, but she couldn't help it. The need to protect her child overrode everything else, even fair judgement and common sense.

"What's the problem?" asked Hermione, walking in. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry, Ginny-"

"No," said Ginny, breathing in panting huffs through her nose. "It's okay, Hermione."

"Ginny, surely you don't mean that?" asked Harry, looking her in the eyes, hands lightly on her shoulders.

Ginny took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't help but somehow feel that this is all his fault! I mean, it's his father! He lived with the man, how could he not expect something like this to happen?"

"Draco?" asked Ron, entering the room. "What's this about his dad?"

"Ginny thinks it's Draco's fault that his father is after her baby," Hermione said quietly. Coming from anyone else, the statement might have been accusatory, biased for one side or another, but Hermione managed to make it a neutral statement of fact. And because of the way she said it, Ron didn't explode. But he was angry.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I don't see the connection you're making, Gin."

"How could he not know that his father would succeed Voldemort?" she cried. "He lived in the same house - they were both Death Eaters - how could everyone know, and he not?"

"Probably because he thought his parents were dead," said Ron smoothly. His Auror training had done a lot to help him control, redirect and focus his anger. "The manor was destroyed, remember? Bodies examined and cremated?"

"Then how could we possibly miss this? He was supposed to be dead!" Ginny cried.

Hermione, searching through the kitchen as Ron and Harry alternately tried to console and reason with her, finished a turkey-tomato sandwich and spooned some pasta salad next to it on a plate. Shouldering her way gently through the men, she sat and placed the plate in front of Ginny.

"Ginny, what's really bothering you?" she asked, as the noise died down. Ginny stared at the plate, taking the sandwich apart and plopping a spoonful of pasta salad on the turkey before taking a bite.

Draco walked in, and took his sweatshirt off one of the hangers on the wall to the left of the door.

"What's up?" asked Ron. Ginny took a big bite, glad to see him glance at her out of the corner of his eye and wince. He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and lifted the sword - which now accompanied him everywhere - out of the umbrella rack.

"Looks like today's a no-show. I'm going home."

Hermione glanced over, not leaving her seat. "What happens if it shows up later tonight?" Worry tinged her voice.

"I'm through dancing to his tune," Draco snarled, suddenly vicious. It's always there, Ginny thought. The fury, the anger. His father's legacy. No - the legacy of his entire life. It's buried, but it's there. He took a deep breath, and half-shut his eyes. Blinking, he said quietly, "I'm sorry. I'm a little tired. I'll be back tomorrow."

But there's the other side too, Ginny remembered. You can't . . . judge. Because there's always the other side. And maybe, she thought with sudden insight, that's the real him. The innocent, unabused, untainted part. I'm surprised that part survived.

"Goodnight," said Harry.

"See you tomorrow, then?" asked Ron, holding out his hand. The two slapped, and shook. Ginny was a little taken aback - she hadn't known they were close. Apparently, despite the fact that their childhood rivalry was a falsehood and they shared a destiny, Draco and Harry were too different to become more than vaguely friends. But somehow, Ron and Draco had formed a close bond.

"Goodnight," said Hermione, and Ginny echoed her.

"Sleep well," Draco said simply, and Ginny thought it a queer farewell. Many things about Draco were slightly out of the ordinary - a testament to how he had shaken off all outside influence that had forced itself on him, trying to shape him, and become his own person.

The door shut behind him, and almost immediately a ringing noise split the air. Ginny glanced at the counter immediately to her left. The cell phone was there, having appeared earlier, unnoticed.

Suddenly furious, she flipped it open and said, "Hello." Her voice was cold enough to shatter ice.

"Ginny Weasley. How's your baby?" came the voice.

She swore at him.

"Such language for a lady," was the amused response. Then the voice turned harsh. "Don’t get too attached to the babe. I will have the child of Voldemort's conquerer."

Ginny laughed, and it was not a nice sound. "You think so?" she challenged. "You've screwed up royally, bastard. My husband didn't defeat Voldemort. Can you guess who did?"

There was silence on the other end, broken only by harsh breathing. "Draco," was the harsh snarl. Ginny couldn't hear any more, for the phone was ripped out of her hand. Ron covered the receiver.

"Ginny!" he snapped. "What are you thinking?"

Her betrayal hit her like a load of bricks. "Ron," she whispered, voice shaking. "I've ruined it - he knows!" Hermione gasped. Harry's hands clenched on the back of her chair.

"What have you done?" Ron demanded, his eyes wide in a chalk-white face. He turned and ran out the door. Hermione sprinted after him, Harry on her heels. Ginny, uncaring of the cold, her heart frozen with fear, followed.

What have I done? she asked herself. One moment of fear, one moment of uncontrolled fury, and she had betrayed her friend to the one person on the planet who wanted more than anything to destroy him, and could. With little effort.

Draco was already worn thin from the months of fighting against a curse that attacked him like a cancer. His father could kill him, and had proven it. Before, however, he was allowed to live because he served a purpose, and could be made to complete a task. Now - the task was his own death. It had been before, but no one had known it. Now, the cards were all on the table. Ginny had revealed their hand.

Screaming Draco's name, trying to be heard over the wind, she dragged air into her lungs. The light of Hermione's wand bobbed only ten feet in front of her, and Ginny reached out, grasping Harry's hand.

There!

Draco turned, and took a step back on seeing them all race frantically toward him. Ron held out the phone. "He knows," he said, his voice laden with fear.

Draco's face turned into a calm mask. "What does he know?" he asked, reaching toward the phone. His voice was too calm, and his eyes caught Ginny's face for a moment.

Then he disappeared.

"What happened?" Ginny cried, unable to contain herself.

"He Apparated," said Harry.

"He can't have. His wand wasn't out," said Hermione.

"Hush," said Ron fiercely. He was holding the cell phone that had dropped to the ground when Draco had disappeared.

His face turned even more pale. He jerked the phone away from his ear just before it exploded in his hand.